Chapter 3: A Perv's Comeback! The Exam's Second Stage!

Sylvie lay flat on her back, staring up at the sky. The pain in her body was nothing compared to the sting of losing in such an embarrassing way.

"Damn it," she muttered, rubbing her face. "I can't believe my first real battle ended because I got distracted by thighs."

Above her, Rosaline sighed, crossing her arms. "If this is your level of focus, I have no idea how you made it this far."

Sylvie let out a weak chuckle. "It's a curse, really."

"More like stupidity." Rosaline turned away. "Get up. The exam isn't over."

Sylvie blinked. "Wait, what?"

"The first stage was a test of martial prowess. The second stage begins shortly. If you're truly strong, you won't let one loss keep you down."

Despite Rosaline's scolding tone, there was a sliver of something else there—respect? Or maybe just curiosity?

Sylvie grinned as she sat up, shaking off the lingering soreness. "Fine, fine. But next time, I'm not holding back."

Rosaline raised an eyebrow. "That implies you held back."

Sylvie didn't answer. Instead, she stretched, rolling her shoulders. "Alright, what's next?"

A loud, booming voice answered her.

"The second stage: Magic Aptitude and Endurance."

Instructor Garret stood at the center of the arena, his golden armor gleaming under the midday sun. Students gathered around, murmuring amongst themselves.

"In this stage, we will test your ability to withstand magical attacks and your skill in countering them. You may use weapons or raw physical ability, but the focus is on how well you handle magic."

Sylvie frowned. Magic was not her strong suit.

She had designed her character with an extreme focus on swordsmanship, leaving her magical capabilities relatively weak. Her only real magical ability was her enhanced senses and reflexes, which were already pushing the limits of human capability.

"This is going to suck," she muttered.

Rosaline shot her a look. "You're not confident?"

"I have the magical ability of a wet sponge."

Rosaline smirked. "Then this should be fun to watch."

The students were divided into groups, each facing an instructor who would bombard them with various magical attacks. The goal was simple—survive without getting knocked out.

Sylvie stood in the middle of a marked circle, surrounded by three floating orbs of light. The instructor assigned to her was a stoic-looking elf woman dressed in a flowing silver robe.

"My name is Instructor Althea," she said, her voice cool and detached. "Your goal is to avoid my spells for as long as possible. Should you be hit three times, you fail."

Sylvie cracked her knuckles. "Alright, let's get this over with."

Althea raised a hand. The air shimmered.

The first attack came fast.

A bolt of ice shot toward her, the temperature in the air dropping instantly.

Sylvie's instincts screamed.

She twisted her body, barely dodging as the frost grazed past her cheek, leaving a chilling sensation behind.

"Damn," she muttered. "That was—"

A second spell followed—a burst of wind magic that nearly swept her off her feet. Sylvie dug her heels in, flipping backward to regain her stance.

The third spell came before she even landed—a fireball aimed directly at her chest.

Sylvie's mind went blank.

Move!

Her body reacted before she could think. Her sword flashed, slicing through the fireball. Heat exploded around her, but she remained untouched.

Instructor Althea raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."

Sylvie exhaled, a bead of sweat running down her forehead. "You call nearly getting incinerated interesting?"

"I expected you to rely solely on speed. But you have instincts. You can feel the flow of magic."

Sylvie blinked. "Huh?"

Althea didn't answer. Instead, she raised her hand again.

The real test had just begun.

A Perv's Luck is Both a Blessing and a Curse

The attacks grew faster and more unpredictable. Lightning crackled, water surged, and wind howled around her. Sylvie dodged, ducked, and weaved between attacks, relying on pure reflexes.

The crowd watched in awe as she barely avoided each spell, her movements an elegant blend of grace and desperation.

Then, it happened.

She dodged an incoming water spell—only for her foot to slip on the puddle left behind.

"Ah, cra—"

Sylvie fell backward—right into Instructor Althea's chest.

A hush fell over the arena.

Sylvie, face-first in soft, pillowy comfort, blinked in pure disbelief.

Instructor Althea did not move. Did not react. She simply stared down at her.

"…Interesting."

Sylvie, knowing her life was in danger, slowly peeled herself away. "Uh… sorry?"

A single flick of Althea's fingers, and Sylvie was sent flying across the training field.

Sylvie landed face-first in the dirt. Again.

"WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?!" she yelled into the ground.

The sound of Rosaline's laughter made her lift her head. The knight stood off to the side, arms crossed, struggling to contain her amusement.

"Oh, shut up," Sylvie groaned.

Instructor Garret's voice boomed across the field. "Results for the second stage will be announced shortly. Rest until then."

Sylvie exhaled, rolling onto her back. She survived.

Barely.

Rosaline stepped forward, offering her a hand. "You're an absolute disaster."

Sylvie took her hand and grinned. "And yet, I'm still here."

Rosaline shook her head. "I don't know whether to be impressed or concerned."

Sylvie smirked. "Both?"

Rosaline sighed, but there was a hint of a smile. "You better not embarrass yourself in the final stage."

Sylvie sat up, her grin widening. "No promises."